


The Fear of Falling Apart

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Orphan Black Fusion, Blood, F/F, F/M, Kitchen Sex, Multiple Pairings, On Hiatus, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fill, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The woman fell before Nat could even tell that she’d pulled the damn trigger, though whether out of shock or just damn good training she didn’t know.  Couldn’t know.  But she knew that face.  Grew up with it, stared at it every morning as she struggled to make red curls behave after a rough night of mingled nightmares and anxiety attacks."</p><p>Natasha Romanov has been looking for a way out of the oppressive Red Room since she can remember, and thanks to a terrifying doppelganger she might've just found one.  Or several.  Orphan Black AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Natasha

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I've got a ton of fics already freaking going, this I know, but this fic has seriously not stopped pressing on my mind and I seriously couldn't stop working on it.  
> So. Here you have it! I'll upload the first two chapters, then I'll try and update everything as regularly as I can. 8 fics at once. Here we go.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Natasha

It’d been a long day.  A really long one.  A “where the hell is my bottle of vodka and hot tub” kind of day, the ones heroines in the movies fell back on just before the shit in the fan in their swanky uptown apartments.  Smooth jazz or classical would filter in the background, she’d tilt her head back and let the suds and warm water swallow her up.  A tendril of hair would fall in her face, so painless and relaxed.  

Natasha pulled her thin coat closer as the rattle of the London underground neared.  Her fingers had long since numbed, but it was nothing in comparison to what she’d dealt with in the past.  Siberian falls and winters turned England into a sauna, and she tried to envision herself in the heat of her hotel’s bathtub.  As run-down and crappy as it might have been there would have to be enough hot water for a bath, if not a shower.  That kept her going, she had to admit, shuffling quickly from one foot to another, tucking a strand of hair out of her face and back into the cap covering her head.

Her eyes jaunted up the clock on the wall.  The damn train was five minutes late and by the time it would finish unloading and reloading it’d be upwards of ten.  James was right, as he often was and as she hated to admit.  She should’ve taken a damn cab.  

“Fuck,” she muttered in Russian, the tongue as comforting as the tub she’d just been thinking about.  She was exhausted from the accent she’d put on all day.  At least assassins didn’t usually need a tongue.  

‘Not much longer,’ she reasoned with herself.  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t prepared for this.  Her fingers itched to hold the familiar weight of her gun, the rifle disassembled in the large tote at her side.  Taken apart, piece by piece.  A weapon to be brought out only when a message needed to be sent.  

She shoved aside the latest shiver, no longer chilled but simply antsy.  Once the train pulled up to the platform she boarded it, feet silent in the rumble of passing citizens, each with their own curious destinations and determinations, with ordinary lives and struggles she’d never be privy to.  She hid within their midst, pulling her cap down a little lower to ensure her hair stayed hidden, eyes kept downwards.  The last thing she needed was to be memorable.  She might not have been watching it all but she could sure as hell hear it.  The couple three seats down squabbled about dishes and the electricity bill being too expensive, a man in front of her in a second hand suit seethed on the phone to his business partner, demanding results to whatever his project was.  The man just on her left edged closer.  She breathed deeply through her nose.  Held it.  He reeked of cheap cologne.  

One of his hands touched her knee, just above the bone.  Squeezed.  No one noticed but Nat, who stiffened.  

“Don’t be so shy,” the man breathed in her ear, leaning close enough his scraggy beard burned her skin.  She’d been molested by worse, and he wouldn’t be the last man.  His breath stank of onion and beer, the cologne doing nothing to mask it as he chuckled.  Before he could think of anything else to say she shifted her hips and legs, widened them.  The heel of her boot stomped on the tops of his sneakers, her considerable strength going behind it.  Before he could do more than exclaim in pain, she shifted the knife tucked in her coat sleeve into hand and dug the tip into the base of his spine, freed when his back had arched in pain.  

“You will find somewhere else to sit and someone else to make your pathetic, sick advances on or I’ll hold your face to the bloody tracks as I take you apart piece by piece.”  She snarled, words low and thick with her accent.  Whether he understood her or just the point of her knife digging through his clothing and into the skin he didn’t say another word or even glance back as he pushed off and towards the very back of the train.  She slid the knife back into place.  Her blood sang.  

A pity.  She’d have liked to take him apart.  

 

Her mark lived a good 400 feet away from where Natasha was setting up her blind, motions mechanic as she rummaged for the pieces, each individually wrapped and unwrapped, some sick play at Christmas time.  It should’ve been growing close to that time, she thought idly as she finished snapping the scope into place, inserting bullet after bullet until the three were in position and she hoisted the gun onto its stand.  One more deep breath in, then out.  The dark of the night kept her well covered, the barrel just peeking out of the opened window as Nat pressed her eye to the scope, leveling and taking the last few seconds to perfect her aim.  Her target was blond, guaranteed to be isolated for the whole evening.  From where she sat in her modest apartment, the beige walls crying for something more than the cheap hanging pictures, Nat could tell the woman would stop at around 5’4”, Nat’s near similar height, and adjusted accordingly as the woman made to rise from the seat she’d perched in.  Her head turned, the slivered crosshairs resting on her forehead, thick blonde hair falling in waves as blue-green eyes  stared at something just in front of her, and full lips turned down--.  

The woman fell before Nat could even tell that she’d pulled the damn trigger, though whether out of shock or just damn good training she didn’t know.  Couldn’t know.  

She knew that face.  Grew up with it, stared at it every morning as she struggled to make red curls behave after a rough night of mingled nightmares and anxiety attacks.  She faltered too long in moving, the sound of the shot having cracked the night.  Instincts kicking in she swore and began to disassemble the gun, shoving it harshly into her bag and disappearing before she realized she’d left the damn bullet shell behind.  

 

The number of the woman’s apartment--she didn’t know her name, _never_ knew the names, _why didn’t she know her name?_ \--flashed in her head as she walked as leisurely down the street as she could manage, hands white-knuckled on the handles of her purse.  She should’ve met with her handlers by that time, they’d be expecting her to come back with a successful mission report.  Or use the knife to end it all if she couldn’t manage to.  She’d have five, maybe ten tops, until the cleaning crew came through and they’d start to look for her.  Plenty of time.  She made it to the apartment in less than a minute, up the five flights of stairs in another, and pushed through the door--.

“Ashley!”  A male voice said, accent so thick it took her half a heartbeat to recognize the word as a name.  She froze.  “You dyed your hair!  It looks good.”  He sounded hopeful, as though she’d turned him down and he was looking for a way in.  She gave a small nod and hum of thanks before disappearing without a word.  

The deadbolt gave a comforting click as it slid into place and she turned to look around.  Her eyes caught on a family portrait just beside the door.  She choked as her hand pressed tight to her mouth to keep the scream inside.  Her face, grinning, bright, and thrilled, with an enormous diamond ring on her finger, and a lithe, dark haired man holding her tight, stared back at her.  She could hardly breathe, her lungs feeling shrivelled as she stared, unblinking, at the picture.  Fingers, just as slim though nowhere near as well manicured, stretched out to touch her face.  But she didn’t have much time, not much at all.  Ignoring the sick feeling in her gut, she moved with silent feet through the silent apartment, towards where the blood had splattered, where the woman with her face bled out on the carpet.  Not even the hole in her head could disguise their likeness, the woman’s eyes blown wide in terror, the blood from her wound reddening her hair so it looked just like--like--.

She had to move quickly to find the bathroom before she threw up, the paltry sandwich she’d wolfed down between jobs coming back up with a vengeance.  What the _fuck_ had Ivan sent her to do?  

The door slammed open just as Nat bent down to pry the ring off of her tw--Ashley’s finger.  

“Freeze, Romanov,” a voice said and Nat didn’t have to turn to know that Yelena had a gun trained on her, just over her heart.  Right where Nat would’ve put it had the positions been reversed.  Natasha did freeze.  Why was she there?  Her mind raced as Yelena padded closer (she’d never been as adept as Nat at keeping herself quiet) and the barrel of the gun nestled against Natasha’s left shoulder blade.  

“You armed?”  Yelena asked, voice quiet, her unoccupied hand patting the redhead down.  

“You’d know if I was,” Nat breathed, tipping her head to the sight to catch sight of the blonde, her training partner since she could remember.  That was saying something.  “You gonna take me out to dinner later for all the heavy petting?”  She lilted, the Russian coming out far more playfully than even Yelena seemed to anticipate.  The blonde’s smile tainted her next order for the others to leave them.  Only once they were alone did the gun’s barrel fall and Nat was able to turn around.  

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Nat?”  Yelena asked quietly, and her blue eyes turned concerned.  Nat might’ve been touched if she wasn’t still on edge.  

Her fingers traced the outside of Yelena’s upper arm.  “I don’t know,” Natasha murmured, letting her eyes hit the floor.  “But--Yelena, who was this woman?”  

Now it was the blonde woman who looked down, following Nat’s line of sight.  “Bozhe moy,” Yelena muttered, stepping closer and tipping the woman’s face with her boot to get a better look.  “What the _fuck_?   _What the fuck_?”

“See why I didn’t meet you?”  

“Nat, we’re not supposed to see this.”  Yelena said quickly, letting Ashley’s head fall back and stepping away.  She was shaking and her eyes unfocused as she stared from the dead body to Nat again, but not seeing her.  “Let’s go.  They need to clean up the mess--.”  

“I need a moment,” Nat insisted.  She’d hoped it would turn her sympathetic, not worried.  Perhaps it just hadn’t registered to yet.  

“Alexei will be waiting.”  She warned.  

“A moment.  Please.”  

Their eyes met, Nat’s unwavering, Yelena’s blown wide in fear.  Nat took one of her hands in both of her own, pulled her closer, and pressed a light kiss to her training fellow’s lips.  “Please.”  

A moment passed.  Then another.  Natasha’s heart thudded hard enough to bruise her chest.  

Yelena deflated after a moment.  “Alright.  You’ll be the death of me.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Nat swore.  Neither mentioned that they didn’t often get a say in what happened to them.  Yelena kissed Nat’s forehead, offering her two minutes before she headed out, closing her in with the blood stench and chills that raced up her arms as she rummaged through the woman’s pockets.  She had a first name but she needed more.  Far more.  The wallet held twenty pounds in small bills and odd change, an ID with her full name.  “Ashley Rose Harroway” and a birth date--.

“A week after mine,” she muttered.  How was that possible if they were twins?  They were too close to--dammit, they were identical.  Did they mess up her records?  Or Natasha’s?  It wasn’t as though the Red Room cared much about personal holidays.  Without quite realizing what she was doing, she pocketed the wallet along with the diamond ring and the cellphone in the woman’s pocket, a thought already forming.  She just needed the right time.  

A couple of bangs on the door called her to leave and with one last look she did.  The cleaners had come through to make Ashley Rose Harroway, the girl with Natasha’s face, disappear.  Nat’s throat tightened.  She had to breathe, had to focus.  

“You ready, or you need another minute?”  Yelena asked her softly.  Nat shook her head.  No.  No she didn’t.  


	2. James

The ache in his shoulder flared by the time he put the gun down, the shrill song of his phone having caught his attention.  He swore and dropped the gun onto the shelf just beside him in favor of sliding the call button.  

“Yelena, what’s wrong?”  He asked, his heart thudding heavily in his chest, wondering just what had happened to make her see khim out.  It wasn’t often she ever contacted him.  

“Are you alone?  You need to be, Winter.”  

He didn’t stiffen, didn’t hardly move a muscle in response to the name.  Only the short, near silent intake of breath gave anything away, and with a muttered request for her to hold, he moved to leave the still occupied training room.  

“What happened?  Where’s Natasha?”  He asked.  They’d been on a round trip to take out seven different targets and were due in less than twenty-four hours.  It meant they only had so many to get her back, or to normal.  Whatever the case might’ve been.  

“Off grid.  We’re following her tracker--got my guys on it now, but she ran off.  I only just came back to.”  

That she came back at all was a surprise.  “No one got a glimpse of her?”  

“None.  Winter, there’s more.”  

His phone beeped with a new message, picture.  In it a blonde Nat looked more carefree and happier than he’d ever seen.  Though she was looking pleasantly up at another man it was unmistakably--.  “How is this possible?  Who is that?”  

“Her target.  She’s incinerated.  Scattered now.”  

His metal fist slung itself into the nearest wall, denting the wall and cursing.  “Tell me where to meet you.”  

 

 


	3. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning: as far as consent goes, Loki is under the impression that Natasha is someone else when they get together. If this worries you, consent-wise, I'd suggest skipping this chapter.

Red was easier to explain than going through the hassle of trying to dye her hair blonde again, and Nat couldn’t help but wonder if Ash hadn’t done the same thing.  It seemed like too great a problem to tackle right then, especially since she was running on what money she’d happened to have left over with her.  She’d slipped from Yelena four hours ago while en route back to Russia, and the others likely wouldn’t come to for some time.  Even if they did her tracker was attached to a cab going clear on the other side of town from where she was planning on being.  If it kept them off her trail for some time then blowing half of her money on getting the cabbie to drive that far away was worth it.  

It wasn’t as if Ashley was wanting for money, either, by the look of her flat.  

Now, with her heart pounding and hands stuck tight in the pockets of the skinny jeans she’d snagged from Ashley’s things on her way out the second time around, she dialed “Loki <3” from Ashley’s phone, swallowing thickly and hoping to god he was the one in the picture, the one who’d given her the engagement ring now on her ring finger.  

‘Please pick up,’ she thought with a tight throat and pursed lips, the hood of her newly acquired jacket pulled up and over her hair.  Maybe she should’ve cut it, just in case.  

“Darling, I was just thinking about you,” the man’s voice was warm on the other side of the phone, soft as the velvet dress she’d worn in Uzbekistan not a week ago.  “How was work?  I thought you were due home an hour or so ago.”  

Work, which was being a designer at a small fashion company if the invoices she’d found in Ashley’s study , along with the hanging designs, were anything to go off of.  So, Loki was the money maker.  Not that Ashley hadn’t at least made a small name for herself.  

“Fine,” she said offhandedly.  She’d listened to the woman’s answering machine half a dozen times to try and get the inflection right, as well as the voice memos she’d left on her phone to remind herself of which errands had to be run, when to call someone called “Thor.”  She could only hope it’d worked, her tone just a little more posh, better pronounced.  “I went out for drinks.  But I miss you.  Can I come over?”  She asked, biting her lip as she looked around the street, her voice turning coy though she was on high alert.  She wanted to go somewhere else as soon as possible.  “I miss you.”

On the other end she could hear Loki stiffen and let out a hard sigh.  “Would that I could, but I’m still at office. I have to work late tonight, remember?”  His voice was slightly ragged.  Well, he would be easy.  

“Loki,” she purred, toying with the end of her coat as if he could see it.  “I really think you want to see me.  Please come pick me up?”  

There was a low, unsteady breath on the other end, punctuated by a curse and shaky laugh.  “You will be the death of me, woman, you know that?  Absolute death--fine, hell.  Where’m I picking you up from?”  But he sounded excited, so she told him the address to the nearest Starbucks and begged him to hurry.  The sooner she got there, knocked him out and snagged as much money as she could get get out, the better.  If she stayed too long it would endanger him, and the last thing she wanted was to prove him right, that she would be the death of him.  She didn’t want any more blood on her hands.  

She tried not to gasp as the sleek Jag pulled up just beside the coffee shop she’d promised to meet him at, the widow on the passenger side rolling down.  Loki leaned closer, grinning as she stepped towards him.  His eyes were as bright as they had been in the wedding pictures, and when she sat down in the passenger seat he leaned in to kiss her.  

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured.  She allowed herself a smile and cupped the side of his face, deepening the kiss, bringing a moan out from his throat.  

They were both gasping when they finally pulled apart, his eyes glazed and cheeks flushed as he stared her down.  

“Hell, you went red again and everything?”  He asked, catching a curl that had fallen into her face and twirling it.  “You are full of surprises tonight.  When did you find time to do this since this morning if you went out for drinks?”  

Shit.  She leaned over to kiss the palm of his hand, hiding her panic in the action.  “That’s for me to know and you to wonder at,” she teased, offering him a saucy wink as she ran her hand down his thigh, squeezing his knee, before moving her fingers slowly upwards, towards his groin.  “Take me home, babe?”  She hoped that was a normal enough endearment, their texts back and forth filled with them.  He hardly shot her a second look before the car sped out and into the night.  His long fingers drummed on the wheel of the car, anxious and anticipatory beats filling the silence between them as she felt him thickening in his trousers under her attention, fingers stroking him to hardness until he was gasping and groaning low in his throat.  

The car he drove was absolutely gorgeous, a real cat with the way the engine purred and roared with movement.  For half a moment Natasha allowed herself to believe she actually was Ashley, sinking in her seat just to relish the feel of the leather against her skin.  It was sumptuous, reminding her of the catsuit she’d donned for missions and recon, but while that was simply functional this was extravagant and rich as sin.  She’d be lying if she said she didn’t love it.  

“I didn’t think you liked the Jag,” Loki said, looking surprised when she pulled her hand away from where they’d been tormenting him to run instead over the butter-soft interior.  “Thought you preferred your Porsche.”

Honestly she had little to no idea what type of car that was, and so offered a one-shouldered shrug.  “Maybe I had a change in heart.”  She offered, sucking on her bottom lip.  Why wouldn’t Ashley love this car, though?  It was sleek, sophisticated, much like the man sitting beside her.  Whoever her twin had been--and really she wished she hadn’t thought of that damn word, a chill setting at the base of her spin and unclouding her head--she’d had good taste.  Her attention went back to distracting Loki, hand slithering back to squeeze at him through the fabric of his pants.  Under the passing street lamps she could see his pupils had blown, and watched him flick his tongue out and over his bottom lip as they came to a stop at a light, his gaze turning instead to her.  

“What has gotten into you?”  He asked, voice hoarse with desire, goosebumps running up his exposed forearms.  He leaned in to kiss her once more, thin lips capturing hers with a familiarity that took her breath away as he took control.  Gone were the soft, feminine lips of Yelena’s that she’d grown so familiar with, and though she’d kissed plenty of men there was a different charge with Loki, one that made her whimper into his mouth.  Whether that was the right or the wrong thing, as Loki pulled away to stare at her, she couldn’t tell.  There wasn’t enough light to get a clear reading, and so she took his hand into hers and squeezed.  

“I missed you,” she breathed, leaving one last slow kiss on his lips.  The honk of the car behind them brought Loki out of his trance, the light having turned green, and with another roar his car picked up and rocketed them out of the intersection.”

“It’s been all of what, twelve or so hours?”  Loki teased.  Had it?  Nat had no idea, and in her haste to get his mind off of that she leaned over to nibble at his earlobe.  His breathing shallowed and she swore the car picked up at least a couple kilometers more.  Good.  The sooner they got there the sooner she could move on and let him get on with his life.  Everything else would simply distract her, no matter how comfortable it might’ve been to stay with him, with this luxury.  

He pulled into a large parking garage beside an enormous apartment complex, one that made Ashley’s flat look minuscule by comparison.  What the hell did this guy do?  No sooner had the car stopped, parked near to the door that would lead them inside the complex, than she crawled onto his lap, grinding her hips against his and grinning when he sucked in a short, quick hiss of air.  Her lips found his, pulling at his bottom one with her teeth until they parted and allowed her full access. She was an excellent kisser, she’d give him that, and his fingers were near bruising as they ran along her spine. S he moaned, shucking off the jacket and pulling his hands up and under the thin blue blouse she'd donned.  

He shivered, moving his lips to her throat and whispering “Ashley” over and over again as his nails dug into her skin.  She groaned, not at all faking it, and rocked her hips all the harder against his.  When he was good and riled up, Nat making sure he could hardly see straight with what, she grinned and shucked off her shirt.  The bra was all her own, not having thought to change it, but he gave an appreciative groan as he kissed the valley of her breasts.

“My favorite color.  You spoil me, darling,” he crooned as he licked slowly up the side of her pushed up breasts, biting into her soft flesh until she shuddered and whined.  One hand effortlessly undid the emerald green clasp of her bra when a tap on the window had them both freezing in place.  The security officer that had waved them into the garage offered a stern, albeit embarrassed look as Nat tugged her jacket on.  

“Take it inside,” he said loudly enough that they could hear it from where he stood, and Loki offered him an apologetic smile as they waited for him to leave before he dissolved into laughter.  Natasha followed suit.  

“Don’t think I’ll be able to look him in the eye for weeks,” Loki muttered as they worked to untangle and get out.  “Caught like a pair of horny teenagers.”

“Sorry,” Natasha added, though she couldn’t have sounded less so.  Loki seemed to realize the same, wrapping an arm around her waist, the jacket of hers pulled tight to keep her covered, and he simply grinned down at her.  

“Don’t be.  It was entirely worth it.  Next time, though, let’s wait until we’re behind closed doors before you jump me again, yeah?”  

She nodded, grinning up at him and standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek once they’d stopped outside the lift.  They could hardly keep their hands off of one another after the elevator doors had closed, and not more than once did Nat wonder if this was what normal felt like, to have a significant other who made your heart race, who laughed with you when your teeth clicked together by accident or your forehead bumped theirs.  It had been like that at the beginning with Yelena, but as the powers that operated the Red Room had found out about that they’d found themselves further and further apart, no longer sent on similar missions but instead put on opposite ends of the world.  

She hated that the last time they’d gotten to work together she’d ended up putting Yelena out, but if the roles were reversed she was confident that Yelena would’ve done the same to her.  She hoped.  

There was a ding as the elevator hit their floor, and Loki grinned as he tugged Nat forward.  Play-acting drunk on his kisses was easy, and she stumbled after him with a giggle that bordered on girlish, watching with keen eyes that he couldn’t see as he led her to the door at the very end of the hallway, sliding his key into the lock with ease as she pressed her body hard against his back, rubbing her hands up and down his chest slowly, wishing she was taller so she could sink her teeth into his throat.  He was so ridiculously tall, she hadn’t realized it when they were sitting beside one another, but now?  He was a giant.  

The bolt slid back into the door with a loud click that reverberated in Natasha’s bones as Loki ushered her inside.  She was taken aback by its sheer size, struck dumb standing there in the enormous entrance room and combined kitchen.  He kept it meticulously clean, she was surprised to see, as she shrugged off her jacket and placed it and her balled up blouse onto the table just beside the door.  He would expect her to walk towards the bedroom and she . . had no idea where that was.  The last thing she wanted to do was lead him to the bathroom or something, and as panic set in her brain kicked into overdrive.  Right.  Plan.  She had done worse.  

She turned to him with a grin on her face, immediately working to remove his jacket from his shoulders, dropping it to the ground before she started in on the buttons of his dress shirt.  He leaned down to cover her lips with his own, cupping the side of her face with one hand as the second moved to run down her spine.  She covered his wandering hand with her right one, shifting it so that it covered her breast, and squeezed.  He groaned, and this time when he made to slip the bra off there wouldn’t be a security cop getting a good look at her body.  Just him.  She traced kisses up his cheek to his ear, nibbling at the lobe and moaning his name, voice ragged, dragged out into three syllables as she rolled her hips up and against his.  “Take me here,” she demanded, snagging her left hand in the belt loops of his trousers, tugging him forward as she stepped backwards and towards the kitchen counter.  It was mostly all cleared off, anyway, and with ease she hiked herself up and onto it, leaning backwards and rolling her hips to help pull her jeans off.  With some satisfaction she watched his mouth drop open in surprise, and as she toed off her jeans she hooked one of her legs around his waist and pulled him closer.  Her panties matched her bra, a deep green, and she leaned up onto her elbows and ran a hand slowly up her inner thigh over her mound before sliding her thumb into the band around the top.  He regained some of his wits and shook his head, dipping forward to kiss her upper torso and trail kisses down her pale skin.  

“What have I ever done to deserve you?”  He hummed against her skin.  She wished he wouldn’t, dread hitting her so hard she had to let her head fall back so he couldn’t see the flashes of reluctance on her face.  She could only hope that she didn’t end up getting him hurt, actual remorse hitting her so hard she had to give out a groan.  Thankfully he took it as a pleasured one, and nipped at her hipbone again before dragging his teeth and tongue lazily down to the apex of her thighs.  With his teeth he removed the satin panties and let them drop, before he surged upwards and pressed his mouth to her slit.  

Her melancholy thoughts turned to what he was doing, and for once she let herself get lost in the pure sensation.  He was good, damn good, with his tongue, and in no time she was shouting and writhing beneath him, body convulsing as her fingers dug into his black hair, tangling and tugging at the roots.  As his mouth worked she caught the sound of his belt being withdrawn from his trousers and thrown to the side, before stepped out of his trousers.  

Even before he could, she tugged him up from between her legs, sitting upwards to claim his lips with hers, smearing her slick on her own chin and tongue as she scooted close enough for the head of his cock to brush against her slit.  The angle wasn’t right, however, Nat a little too high up for him to reach without being on his toes, and though he teased her with it she growled deep in her throat.  No, that wasn’t how this needed to play out.  The counter was big enough for her to slink backwards, tugging him along with her, up, until he was lying down on the marble surface much like she’d been.  From there it was easy to crawl over his body, repositioning herself to straddle him.  Her knees ached, and so she switched to her haunches, sinking onto him with one swing of her hips.  

As men went he was certainly well endowed.  She allowed herself a gasp that wasn’t the usual fake falsetto she had acquainted with pretending to be pleased, the sound instead deep and guttural, as though he’d dragged it from her toes, and as his hips thrust upwards and into her again she found the noise leaving her mouth once more.  

“Fuuuck,” she drew the word out with every thrust of his hips, his hands lifting to grasp her breasts, massaging the soft skin and leaning up to suck on her nipples until she whined above him.  She circled her hips once, twice, before taking up a pace that was both quick and desperate, needing as much of him as she could get.  He released one of her breasts in favor of trailing his right hand down to her clit, rubbing it in time with her movements so that she was soon clamping around him and finding herself in the throes of the most powerful an orgasm that she’d ever had with a man before.  Her vision whited out as she leaned back, placing her hands on his knees, to make it all the easier for her to speed up, even as her body wanted to go lax atop him and let him fuck up into her as he had before.  Her pride refused it, demanding she give as good as she’d gotten.  She wouldn’t be outdone.  

In no time he joined her, gasping and panting her name--no, Ashley’s name--as he came with a cry, filling her up without worry for protection or anything of the like.  A good thing, she supposed, that pregnancy wasn’t an issue for her.  

They came down together, bodies relaxing as Loki laid back down on the cooling marble with a soft hiss, Nat laying down atop him, her head resting on his chest as she heard his heart begin to slow down.  His arms wrapped around her, trapping her there.  She fought down the panic as best she could.  

“What was that?”  He whispered, voice almost gone from their coupling.  

“Mmm, surprise,” she giggled, not looking up at him.  Was he really complaining?  

“I’ll say.  I thought you didn’t want to have sex again until we’d gotten married.  Said it’d make it better.”  

Had she?  

Fuck.  

She turned her face up to look at his, an embarrassed smile on her lips.  “I can’t help myself when I want you, Loki.  You know what you do to me.”  

Placated with that, he grinned and kissed the top of her head, laying back down and relaxing.  Once they’d both caught their breath he led her slowly to the bedroom, the familiar soreness between Nat’s legs pleasant for once, a reminder that she’d made it.  Now all she had to do was wait for him to fall asleep and she’d grab what she could and leave.  It was just that easy.  

So why did falling into bed beside him at her side, his neck burrowed between her shoulder and neck, feel so damn right?  


	4. Gwen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I'm back! So, short chapter just to get an update in place, but more is coming! Thanks so much for reading, hope you like the introduction of the new characters =]

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Gwen asked, and her voice went apologetically quiet, unsure, as though expecting her partner to tell her no any minute.  Hell, she wouldn’t have been amazed if she did, and the look that Betty shot her told her if she didn’t quit asking then she’d say n for all their sakes.  As if she wasn’t as interested as the pair of them.  

“Just take the freakin’ blood,” Liz said with a roll of her blue-green eyes, arm already extended like some junky waiting for a new hit.  “We all wanna know what the hell it is they found that my results--.”  She coughed hard, covering up her mouth with the crook of her free arm while her whole body shook with the force of it.  Gwen’s heart ached and she turned away, syringe left at Liz’s side, to grab her a glass of water  It was getting worse and why she wasn’t staying on bedrest and oxygen right then was beyond Gwen--.  

‘Because you prompted her to get up, selfish.’

She pushed that aside, lips pursed as she handed Liz the drink, helping tuck strands of ever-vibrant red hair behind her ears and trying not to notice the balding patch just behind her left temple.  “You should get some rest,” Gwen said quietly, rubbing her back. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I’ll rest once you’ve got the samples,” Liz’s eyes burned Gwen’s, unrelenting as the first day that the redhead declared them friends, the only two American Bio-Chem majors.  “Gwen, don’t you abandon me, too.”  

Never.  She murmured the word as her brow furrowed and her throat tightened.  She could never do that.  They bound Liz’s arm near the shoulder, and the needle sank into her thin skin with ease.  Liz hardly even seemed to notice, eyes a million miles away until Gwen pulled the needle out, vial full of the dark red liquid.  She turned away to label it, her back to Liz.  

“That gonna be enough?” Liz asked from behind.  Gwen didn’t turn, just nodded.  

“Gwen.”

They needed more if the first tests didn’t end up being conclusive, and she worried at her bottom lip.  She was grateful her back was to her best friend so she wouldn’t see her nerves.  The last thing that she needed to do was stress her out more, she told herself.  

“We can get more another time if we need it.”

“Nah.”  Liz’s accent only grew stronger the more vehement she grew.  “Do it now while I’m here.”  

“Lizzie--.”

“Just do it, Stacy.”

She sounded exhausted and her eyes had drooped ever so slightly, but her body stayed rigid as her will.  They took four more vials before Gwen insisted it was enough, and Liz looked about ready to pass out.  Betty grabbed her a pillow from one of the chairs, brought there from the last all-nighter they’d pulled before the exam two weeks ago, and Gwen threw her coat over Liz’s upper torso.  It didn’t take long for the redhead to fall asleep, and that terrified Gwen.  Her eyes met Betty’s, and the darker haired woman had a heavy, scared look in her eyes, too.  

“She’s getting worse isn’t she?”  Betty murmured once they’d walked away, Gwen leading the way towards the lab to test the blood for . . . well, whatever it was they could find.  Whatever it was couldn’t have been contagious, otherwise they’d have caught it, and Liz would’ve been in quarantine, but still they needed to make sure.  

“She’s definitely not getting well,” Gwen said, her voice soft and she shot a look towards the door.  “I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know that there’s much we can do.”  Betty admitted, voice soft.  “There’s not much to be done if we can’t figure it out.”  

She didn’t have to tell her that, and it certainly didn’t help the weight that had settled on Gwen’s shoulders.  

"The least we could do is try." 


	5. Natasha

She woke up to sunlight the next morning, the curtains letting loose a sliver of sunshine that hit her eyes at just the right angle.  The body beside her shifted, the arm around her waist loosening ever so slightly, murmuring something incomprehensible in his sleep.  Her eyes flew open, heart hammering in her chest hard enough to wake even him up, she was sure, before the memory of the past night came back to her.  She was fine, she was safe.  It was all fine.  Her mouth tasted of metal and bile, dry and making her want to gag as she took a half minute to try and collect herself.  Her chest rose and fell slowly as she forced herself to breathe, blinking once, twice, and after she’d felt she’d given it enough time for him to slip further asleep she slithered out of his hold and out of the bed, watching with careful eyes to make sure she didn’t wake him up.  He gave another groan but turned onto his other side, pulling the blankets up and around his thin, pale shoulders.  He was cute, she had to admit, and for a moment the smile on her face felt genuine.  

Still she’d wasted too much time in one place and needed to get moving again.  Her eyes cast around the room, finally getting a good look at the green walls and black, wood furniture, hoping that as she tiptoed into the closet she’d find--yes.  Thank God.  Ashley, it seemed, had left a few things behind, and she slid a shirt off of one of the hangers, followed by a loose pair of work slacks.  Cute, if not a little plain.  If she could pull her hair up in a ponytail and shove a hat over it--at least the weather was cold enough to warrant one--she’d be able to get past cameras, at least.  And hopefully she wouldn’t have to worry about meeting with anyone on her way out.  

She started when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and thin lips were pressed into the crook of her bare neck, not having had time to pull the shirt on just yet.  

“Woah, hey,” Loki smiled as she turned around, hands fisted in the fabric of her shirt, feeling her heart slow down as she forced herself to relax.  Just Loki.  She could do this, she just didn’t think he’d be awake so soon.  “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” she assured him, standing on her toes to kiss him on the lips and force herself to smile.  She’d done worse than pretend to be a sickeningly love-struck girlfriend.  Fiance.  Whatever she was.  “Was just thinking I was gonna head to the gym.”  She said with an easy smile, stepping backwards from him, hips sashaying with the movement as she tried to force herself out of the room and out of his arms reach as fast as she could.  Not that she wanted to be--no, dammit.  She needed to.  

“Dressed like you’re going to go to the office?”  He asked, arching a brow, confused.  Shit.  She bit her bottom lip.  

“I just thought I’d left my other clothes at home, and I don’t feel like trekking all the way back over there when I might as well just leave from here.  Weird, huh?”

There was only silence between them, silence, and the drumming of her heart hard against her ribs.  “Did you check where you usually leave your work-out clothes?” He asked, the smile on his face not telling her whether he was being patronizing or sincere.  Her heart beat a little harder, a little faster.  Shit.  Was he onto her already?  Her body tensed, but she forced herself to nod.  

“Yeah, of course I checked there.”

He hardly missed a beat before stepping closer, and her body shied away with his close proximity, not quite sure what he was doing, but he surpassed her and stepped towards the dresser in his room, opening the bottom.  There, folded, were a handful of sweat-stained shirts, sports bras, and a couple crumpled pairs of what looked like yoga pants.  Oh, whoops.  She had the decency to flush and lean up to kiss his cheek.  Well that was embarrassing, and her brain had to work double quick to try and come up with something to do to cover her blunder.  

“You’re too good to me,” she promised him, reaching a hand out to cup his cock, massaging it gently as it began to fill with blood.  He groaned, twisting his head to try and capture her lips, but she pulled away with a coy smile.  

“After I get back from the gym, big boy.”  She said with a wink.  He let out another groan but let her pack up the rest of her clothes and disappear out the door.  

She didn’t even realize that she was ringing until she was halfway down the stairs and the phone had slipped out of her jacket pocket and onto the stairs.  CALLER UNKNOWN the screen said, and she swallowed hard.  Did she dare open it?  If it wasn’t Loki, then who the hell else was calling her that early in the morning on a Saturday?  She let it go to voicemail, ignoring the pounding of her heart in her throat, and after collecting it back into her jacket she disappeared down the rest of the stairs.  She had to get out of there, and the sooner the better.  

\--

Loki watched her as she headed out the door of his apartment complex, the phone in his hand.  “Yeah, she’s fine.  A little off, but I just don’t think she’s been sleeping that well.  No, I’ve got her under control.  Don’t worry.”  He paused to hear the other man on the phone, brow creasing as he watched Ashley take the opposite direction to the gym.  Where the hell did she think she was going?  “I’m telling you, I’ve got it all under control.  It won’t happen again.”  

He clicked off soon after, scowling as he pocketed the phone and moved to shrug his coat on.  What the hell was Ashley playing at?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update--but an update none the less. I'm gonna try and go character to character for each chapter, so some of them might be shorter or longer than others, depending. Thanks so much for reading!


	6. James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between chapters! Hope this satisfies the need for an update, and thanks so much for reading!

Yelena called him half an hour later.  “Report,” he murmured from where he’d taken up his place at the last place that the cameras had gotten a good look at her.  He’d spent a little while there, trying to retrace her steps, trying to think like Natasha would.  Whoever it was that’d picked her up in the Jag had been friendly to her twin, and they’d disappeared quick enough to do lord knew what, but James was confident she was still in the area.  If he knew Natasha at all he wouldn’t have been surprised at all if she retraced her steps the same way he was, at least before she tried to get out of the country.  She’d want to cover all her bases, and she’d need money to do that.  That meant returning to where Yelena was.  

“Negative at the source, though a couple of her twin’s friends came around to see where she was.  Want me to stick around, just in case?”

“Put a couple guys on the building, I want eyes on it until we find her.  You come to me.”  He said, rattling off the corner he found himself at.

“Be there in a few minutes,” she promised before he clicked off and moved to grab a coffee at the shop.  They’d been the ones to tell him what had happened once he’d flashed a fake badge and spouted some bullshit about her being wanted for questioning.  Well, mostly bullshit--he had many a question to ask her.  He played it all over in his head as he cradled the styrofoam mug of steaming coffee, black, between his hands and stared out at the busy intersection.  So Natasha had a twin, and upon seeing her (and killing her, at least she’d finished the mission) had decided to . . . what?  To infiltrate her life?  Take herself out of the Room after everything they’d done to help her?  It didn’t make sense.  Sure they’d all had moments of frustration but no one just left.  It wasn’t done, not ever.  Life, or death in service, that was how it was.  They all knew it.  

He almost missed the familiar flash of bright red hair under a stylish black hat, almost didn’t catch the way a woman across the street tightened the belt of her coat as she led a young girl down the block.  James stood quickly, coffee abandoned at the table, and headed out without another word.  She’d cut her hair and straightened it so it stopped just past her shoulders, but it was undoubtedly her.  He knew she’d come the same way, though the kid threw him for a loop.  What the hell was she doing, endangering a child for the sake of returning back where she’d been?  Natasha was clever, but not cruel.  Still he kept close to her tail, blending in with the crowd before she disappeared through the door of a ballet studio, smiling kindly down at the little girl.  

“Do I have to?”  The child was asking.  

“Yes,” Natasha trilled although her look was stern.  “C’mon now.  We’re already nearly late.”  

James waited there after she tugged the child inside, and his phone buzzed half a minute later with Yelena’s return call.  

“Where are you?”

“In pursuit.  Followed her back to the Jacques Ballet Studio, east of where I told you.  Guess she’d dropping off a kid.  Do a quick sweep and make sure there’s no get away car?”  He asked, directing her just where he was waiting.  He caught sight of Yelena not a minute later, subtly working her way around the building before meeting up with him across the street soon after.  

“No other exits or entrances, parking lot’s filled with cold cars.  Nothing.”  She murmured as she stood facing the back alley where he’d situated himself, his back to the wall.  He relaxed, but only slightly.  

“Good.  So we wait.  Give your guys a call and get them out of that apartment before questions start getting asked, we’ll get her here.”  

Yelena’s eyes flashed with expectation, flicking from the door of the studio and back to James, but nodded and made the call all the same.  He knew she wanted to go in and confront Natasha herself.  Her betrayal went deep where the blonde was concerned, and James reached out to clasp her shoulder.  

“Hey, we’ll get her back and with it get some answers,” he assured her with a nod, squeezing her tight before releasing her.  

“I just want to know why the hell she’d do this without explanation,” Yelena muttered, eyes fixing on the door and narrowing.  He cold all but feel the hurt radiating off of her, even as she did her best to hide it.  They weren’t supposed to feel, not when it came to a mission.  

And Natasha _was_ their mission now.  When they’d missed the rendezvous point, Ivan had called, demanding to know what had went wrong to cause them to miss it.  James had explained the situation as delicately as he could.  He didn’t want Ivan to know all the details, after all.  Like how Nat had been missing for upwards of an hour and a half before he’d called.  Or that she’d assaulted Yelena and the others on the way out.  

He was shaken from his thoughts when the door opened and a familiar face, framed by pin-straight, ridiculously perfect hair, appeared.  Yelena stiffened.  Natasha blinked once, twice, as if she had no idea who either of them were.  Why wasn’t she bolting?  Yelena sucked in a sharp breath before moving in, stepping up to Nat and wrapping an arm around her shoulder, hissing something James couldn’t hear into her ear.  Nat tried to shoulder herself free, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.  

“You owe us a serious explanation, Romanov,” Yelena muttered to Nat once she was back within earshot.  Judging by how the red-head’s body went stiff Yelena had her gun out and pressed to the woman’s lower back, hidden by the pair of their coats.  The shot would disable her, best case scenario for Natasha.  

Blue-green eyes whipped to James, her mouth flapping without words.  “I don’t--I don’t.”  She finally managed to stammer.  “If it’s money you want you can have the purse and wallet,” she promised.  Closer to him he could hear that her accent was posh, though James hadn’t known her to be working on it that intensively.  Just how long had Natasha been planning this?  His blood ran cold with the thought and his resolve steadied as he wrapped a hand around the strap of her purse and went through it quickly.  The phone he tossed to the ground, slammed his heel on it to break the screen and destroy it.  No one was looking at them, Yelena having tugged Nat towards the back alley so that the shadows cast by the buildings on either side kept them well hidden.  

“What was that for?”  Natasha hissed, her expression a mix between terrified to furious.  

“I’m not having you tracked, Romanov,” he growled, nodding his head for the pair to follow him.  His car wasn’t too far away.  “Don’t make a scene, Nat.  Just don’t.”  

“You don’t understand--I’m not her.  You have the wrong woman,” Natasha protested, trying to dig her heels into the ground as she looked from Yelena, who stiffened, to James.  “My name’s Madeline.  I’m not this Nat Romanov, I’m Madeline Barr.”  

Yelena shot James a look, one he didn’t take long to echo.  If Nat had found one twin, was it possible there was a third, a triplet who looked identical and everything?  Not even Nat was _this_ good of an actress.  

“Shut up,” James growled, shoving the woman.  “And keep going.  Don’t draw attention to yourself.”  

At least this one, it seemed, to could follow orders, even if there was a gun to her back.  


	7. Gwen

It would be a few days until the lab finished with the results and they would be able to go over things themselves, and with Midwinter break already upon them Gwen had insisted that they both stay inside for the day. It sounded infinitely better than pacing around the lab pretending to distract herself from the coughs that shook Lizzie’s body every couple minutes, and it beat the Library where the silence squeezed her throat until she was sure that death was coming for her.

Liz had taken to sleeping in late, usually with the book she’d been reading the night before pressed against her cheek, and when Gwen had checked up on her that morning she was grateful that the sickness hadn’t changed that. Still, she wished she had tried harder to make her go see someone. A professional. Science majors they might be, but that didn’t make them experts. ‘Still,’ she thought as she stepped into the kitchen downstairs and started pulling out pans for breakfast, ‘Not like I’ve ever stopped her when she’s got an idea in her head before.’ Her hands pulled the carton of eggs out of the fridge as well as the milk before reaching for the thick bread just atop the refrigerator that Lizzie had begged to get from the French bistro a couple blocks away. Cutting the rest of the loaf gave her something else to focus on, as did making the better for french toast like her mother had made--eggs, milk, whisked into a frenzy, then doused with cinnamon and sugar until she thought it might make her sick. There was nothing better than sweets on a day in, she thought, turning the stovetop on medium and adding butter to the pan to melt. The smell of that alone made her stomach growl, and she smiled to think that it might even be enough to wake Lizzie out of a dead sleep.

She doubted it, but it was still a thought. Meticulously, she swirled the butter in the pan until it coated the whole bottom, and after covering two pieces of bread in the mixture she placed them gently on the hot surface. The sizzle and smell of caramelizing cinnamon and sugar made her stomach groan again, and lifted her spirits enough that she began to hum quietly to herself. She had made sure to set out an extra plate just beside the stove, and after some time it began to collect quite the pile of slices of toast. Still no sign of Lizzie. Gwen chewed on her bottom lip, her heart jumping into her throat. She could always just surprise her with breakfast in bed? Leftover french toast was still good, but it just wasn’t the same as fresh off the pan. Washing her hands, she grabbed a clean plate, piled it with a couple of pieces and snagged the maple syrup--the good stuff from back home, courtesy of her mother’s last care package--out of the fridge to bring with her.

She hadn’t heard Liz start to cough in the bathroom just to the left of the top of the stairs in the midst of her working towards getting breakfast around, but now that she’d snapped out of her daze she couldn’t miss it. It made her chest ache to hear, and she bit her lip as she made it to the top of the stairs, wondering whether or not she should bother her. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. But still, there was no reason that she had to go through this alone. Setting down the french toast and the maple syrup just outside the closed bathroom door, Gwen rapped her knuckles quietly on the thin wood.

“Elizabeth?”

“Just a second.” The woman croaked inside, her voice starting to go from usage.

Gwen stepped away from the door, throat thickening as her good mood started to disappear. She’d have to get some tea going to try and help the red head regain her voice, but other than that she wasn’t sure what more they could do. It wasn’t a mucus issue, and her throat had gotten so dry that she’d begun to cough up blood. That’d been two days ago. Now, since it hadn’t stopped, Gwen couldn’t imagine what was happening.

“You know it’s not too late to see a doctor,” she said through the door, just loud enough that she knew Liz would be able to hear her.

“I’m not going to one, I told you that Gwen.” Lizzie’s voice scraped from the bathroom. “Everyone dies when they go to the hospital. That’s not going to be me.”

She didn’t want to say that she was afraid the girl would die if she didn’t, but it tugged at her heart and her conscious all the while. The door opened not long after, Lizzie wiping her lips of something red and rubbing it on her black boxer shorts, legs covered in goosebumps. Her mouth cracked into a grin as she caught sight of the breakfast and syrup, still laid out on the floor next to the bathroom.

“Awe, Stacy, bringing out the big guns.”

“Thought you might like breakfast in bed,” Gwen said, not meeting her eyes and bringing one of her hands to the back of her neck, trying to rub the tension from the knots at the top of her spine as best she could. “Sorry that I’m a little late.”

Lizzie’s arms wrapped tight around her before she could say anything else or do anything other than squeak in surprise. She was warm, and maybe that should’ve worried Gwen given the gooseflesh on her roomie’s skin, but all she could think about was how badly she wanted to melt into the embrace. About how strong Liz was despite everything that was going on, and how she kept putting on her bravest face even when things started to go sour. Her arms found their way around Lizzie’s waist, holding her tight and burying her face in her shoulder. It would be a miracle if she could stop feeling as though she wanted to cry every time it came to something like this. She chewed on the inside of her cheek to focus on something else but the building pressure behind her eyes, so when Lizzie pulled away she could look up at her with a smile on her face rather than with watery eyes.

“C’mon, eat your breakfast before it starts going cold.” She said, breathing deeply through her mouth to keep from sniffling. Lizzie’s eyes still glinted, as though she knew but wouldn’t say anything, and for that Gwen was grateful. Picking up the plate and syrup, Lizzie nodded her head towards the stairs.

“Let’s go eat at the table. I need some tea--and oh, damn girl, you even used the good bread.”

“Well I couldn’t have it going to waste.” Gwen said with a shrug, following behind Lizzie to make sure she didn’t stumble, carrying the syrup so that Liz had a free hand to grip the rail. Once or twice Gwen saw her roommate’s knuckles go white, but it passed soon enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back, from outer space! Just a short update, but I'm gonna try and keep them coming as often as I can. Still floundering around trying to figure out where this is going, but I'm still working at it. Promise <33 thanks so much!


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